Make the World Stop Spinning
by Copper's Mama
Summary: Chance/Ilsa fic. Spoilers for Episode 11, takes place right at the end. Please read and review!


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_A Chance/Ilsa fic. _

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_Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Human Target. _

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_A/N: Well, after the ending of that last episode, I couldn't resist writing a fic about these two. _

_This will take off directly at the end of the episode, so if you haven't seen the episode, beware of spoilers. Though, really, if you're worried about spoilers, you shouldn't be reading any new fanfics before you've seen the episode ... _

_I hope you guys like this one, I know I'll love writing it. _

_As always, please read and review, I live for feedback! _

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"I don't think it's a good idea to, um ... mix rum and thiopental ..." he told her, watching as she turned around. She was upset, vulnerable, and wasn't thinking straight. He should really leave.

That plan, however, was circumvented when she invaded his person space, drew her hands around him, and pressed her lips against his.

Chance responded immediately, bringing his own hands up to cup around her neck and returning the pressure against her lips, savoring the feeling - he didn't know when he'd get the chance again. He didn't think about the monumental mistake he was probably making, or how she would probably hate him - and herself - in the morning. He didn't think about what Winston or Guerrero or Ames would think.

He could only think about how soft her lips were against his, and the small twitches those lips would make as she quivered against him, her fingers digging softly into the flesh of his neck.

She pulled back after a moment, her eyes slowly opening.

Chance couldn't look at her right away, convinced that she was going to slap him, storm away, or both. It seemed like hours passed in the silent office building, until Ilsa slowly moved her hand back to cup his cheek, making him look at her.

"Make the world stop spinning out of control," she begged him, her eyes brimming with tears that were threatening to spill.

Chance pushed his doubts to the side, bringing his hand up to cover her own. After a moment his grip tightened on her hand, and he stood from his seat, pulling her off the ground with him. He couldn't find the right words, so he simply nodded his head, keeping her hand in his as he turned from the office, and made his way to the staircase.

Ilsa realized his intentions, and nearly sighed with relief, following him up the steps to his flat above.

When they reached his bedroom, Chance turned in the doorway, giving Ilsa a chance to walk away. "Are you sure?" he asked her, wondering if he should be asking himself that question.

Ilsa responded by stepping into him and catching his lips again, her hands digging firmly into his shoulder blades this time.

Chance took that for his consent, and began leading her back towards the bed. Clothes were tossed haphazardly around the room, both of them needing to feel the heated flesh of the other's skin against their own - anything to keep them grounded. Chance began a slow pace with her, but Ilsa was in no mood for slow and gentle.

She wanted Chance to possess her, fill her ... she wanted to forget all of the unpleasantness and heartbreak. She just wanted to _feel_ alive again. She urged him on, using her legs to increase his movements until they were rocking against one another in a frenzied passion.

Sooner than they both would have liked, they collapsed together on the bed, their hearts racing staccato beats.

Chance rolled off to the side, staring up at the ceiling, not knowing what to say. Where did they go from here? What could he say ...?

Ilsa turned on her side, tucking her head against his chest and laying a hand across his stomach. "Things just got extremely complicated, didn't they?" she inquired aloud.

Chance nodded his head, wrapping the arm under her head so that he could grip her hip as she nestled against him. "Yeah."

Ilsa sighed, her fingers rubbing small circles on the skin of his stomach. "Thank you."

"For what?" Chance wondered, doing the same on her hip with his own fingers.

Ilsa was silent for a moment, glancing around the dark room. "For putting up with all my ridiculousness. I know I can be handful at times."

Chance shrugged slightly, lowering his eyes to the top of her head. With his free hand, he brushed her curls away from her face, causing her to turn her head and meet his eyes. "I could use a little ridiculousness in my life."

Ilsa allowed a small smile onto her face at that, short-lived though it was. She lay her head back against Chance's strong, sturdy chest, feeling him pull the covers over their bodies and fold his other arm over his stomach to grasp her hand. She didn't know what the next day would bring, or what it would mean for either one of them. For now, she just wanted to feel safe and secure in his arms, and stay still while the rest of the world spun out of control. It was all either one of them could do, really.

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_The end. _

_Well, what did you guys think of that one? Like it, hate it? _

_Reviews are appreciated, flame if you must, but constructive criticism is much more useful. _

_Until next time ...! _


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